


been to the moon and the stars and the go inbetweens

by Yatzuaka



Series: go inbetweens [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzuaka/pseuds/Yatzuaka
Summary: Loki wanders through the realms after everything ended.





	been to the moon and the stars and the go inbetweens

_I was here 4 days after my world ended._

* * *

He drifted through realms, under stars he knew, even if they sat in unfamiliar configurations. Stone and sand and barren soil passed under his restless feet, crystalline skies and storms stretched endlessly across horizons he wasn't able to recognize. Loki had seen so much along the way, frankly amazed at the fortitude, the stubbornness of life, but nothing seemed to entice him to stay in one place for longer than a night. 

In hollows beneath dead trees and caves carved into abandoned mountains, he rested legs grown weary from a journey he couldn't find an end to, wrapped up in an increasingly tattered cloak. Even if going home to get a new one was an option, Loki wasn't sure where that would even _be_ anymore.

Sometimes, he glanced down to see Jotun runes under his fair skin, nail beds darkening to black. He'd stopped bringing himself back from the edge, instead letting the change sweep over him until his skin was blue and his eyes were red. It was never exactly permanent, but the change was happening more frequently and lasting for longer and longer. 

It would have scared him, before.

Loki pretended not to know why it no longer did.

(Nothing mattered anymore.)

* * *

_I was here 13 days after my world ended._

* * *

Loki scratched a nail over the letters scraped into the wall, fairly certain that he was not, in fact, hallucinating. He hadn't been sure the first time he'd seen the careful inscription. Strangely, this second one convinced him. Studious as he'd been, he knew English when he saw it. 

What would someone who spoke that language be doing all the way out here? 

It was too random for his subconscious to have played a trick.

* * *

_What is so fragile it breaks when named aloud? 35_

* * *

He was starting to get curious.

(Lies.)

(He'd been curious from the start.)

* * *

_I was here ~~6~~   ~~14~~   ~~20~~  87 days after my world ended. _

**_W.T.F._**

* * *

He twisted his index finger inside the divots the periods made, much like a tongue delving into a hole in a tooth, feeling the sheer frustration that drove the point of the tool into rock again and again.

* * *

_There once was a man from Nantucket - 99_

* * *

Loki kept walking.

He pretended it was still aimless. 

* * *

_Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality - 127_

* * *

Days blended into weeks, just like they have since everything ended, but now there was something that didn't make sense, there was someone else walking the short cuts. Exactly _how_ many Midgardians had found the paths? They were dull, dimwitted creatures without enough sense to know when to give up. He'd known of one who'd traveled like him, but she -

* * *

_Open your eyes, look up to the sky and see - 129_

* * *

Of all the things Loki detested, ignorance was the one he liked the least.

The mystery of the three letters haunted him. What did they mean? 

He was increasingly desperate to know.

* * *

_Nothing really matters, nothing really matters to me - 132_

* * *

Loki woke up to the strangest sensation; something was tickling his cheek. He opened an eye, not suspecting anything other than another figment of his imagination. 

There was a mere second to take in an impression of round goggles and heavily embroidered fabric, before his entire being was suddenly lightning. His limbs jerked, locked up in improbable, impossible, uncomfortable positions. 

"Why're you following me?"

His eyes watered, but he was still able to watch them peal back their head scarf. There was something vaguely familiar about the face revealed, especially when she - and despite the dirt and gauntness it was a she, he was certain - pushed the goggles up to her forehead. Try as he might, he could not place her. 

She spoke English with that strange flatness to vowels that Thor's - he shook the thought away. This one, too, is _American_. 

Loki's limbs tingled and his muscles untwisted, gradually coming back too life. Whatever she had done to him, could be done again, he knew, and the question she asked was simple enough, even if the answer was as mysterious to him as it was to her. 

His mouth was dry, so he swallowed before speaking. "I'm not," it still comes out in a croak.

She snorted, "Wrong answer, punk." 

And then the world went dark.

* * *

He was bound, but not with rope, when Loki came to. He heard her singing, so he knew he wasn't alone. He tried to shift and her voice cut off abruptly. 

"Let's try this again. Why are you following me?"

Loki struggled into a sitting position, arms firmly stuck behind his back. His eyes were dry, his vision oddly streaky, and he blinked repeatedly trying to alleviate the symptoms, but it didn't help with the strange blurriness. A shadow moved in the corner of his peripheral, but he couldn't turn quick enough to discern what it was. 

"Well?" She asked, voice coming from an entirely different place. "I won't ask again," she promised, and Loki might've laughed, because what exactly did she imagine she could do to him?

A smile leaked out, amused and bitter. "You're the one leaving bits of nonsense for any fool to follow. What did you think would happen?"

The haze started to clear from his eyes, but something else was happening, as well. He was reverting. His limbs were already shrinking, his bonds loosening. A few more minutes and his skin would pale, and he'd be able to free himself, if he could just keep the mortal from noticing.

"I didn't know anybody else knew about the ways in between," she took a deep breath, and the sadness in her voice was unmistakable. "I didn't know anyone else survived."

Fabric rustled behind him and the weight around his wrists fell away. "I'm Darcy. Don't -," her voice was sharp, a command, and again mirth rose from deep within. He wondered what he wasn't supposed to do, briefly. Move? Touch her? Kill her?

He stretched out his arms, the increased blood flow painful, his joints popping loudly in protest of the rude treatment. Turning, he spotted her in the shadows, her hands steadily clenching a weapon. Loki raised his own hands, a gesture of surrender pretty much accepted across all Realms, because as much as he wanted to hurt her back, he would always be his mother's son.

"I won't," he assured her despite the vagueness of her directive. "Just tell me, please, what does 'W.T.F.' mean?"

Darcy laughed until she cried. 

**Author's Note:**

> One of those things that plagued me and I wrote to get rid of. I wish I could say "It's a one-shot", but who knows. I'm terrible at short. 
> 
> Stole unrepentantly from Queen and Silversun Pickups.
> 
> Also, silence is what breaks when spoken aloud.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [from distant star to this here bar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12758703) by [wrennette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette)




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